Closet Idealism AU Ficlets
by icepixel
Summary: Collection of ficlets set in the AU begun with Closet Idealism. Mostly Ivanova/Garibaldi.
1. Notes

**A bit of explanation:**  
So. The AU I created in "Closet Idealism" and continued in "The Little Dreams..." has _eaten my brain_, to the point where I have loosely plotted out events in it through the series finale and even beyond. All in my head, of course; I would never make, say, a spreadsheet of such events, no, not me. That's just crazy.

Anyway, while I do have at least two longer fics planned that are set in this universe, I keep getting hit with these little ficlets - scenes, basically, usually less than 2,000 words - also set in it. Rather than litter the archive with a slew of tiny fics, I've decided to contain them all here, one per chapter. This first "chapter" will be updated with titles and summaries of each piece that gets added.

I don't seem to be writing these ficlets in any particular order, so it may be that one is set twenty years in the future while the next takes place in 2260. I'll stick an approximate date at the top of each chapter, and note if any follow directly from another piece set in this AU.

As far as adding to this in any kind of timely manner...well, let's just say I make no promises. But I'll try!

**Chapter 2:** "Biological Inefficiencies." G'Kar visits. "All of your biological inefficiencies are made up for by the fact that your friends can babysit this early in the child's life."

**Chapter 3:** "Language Lessons." Susan and Michael find out what their friends have been teaching their daughter.

**Chapter 4: **"How We Were Transfigured." The sharp edge of memory begins to dull. Ivanova-centric rather than ship-centric.

**Chapter 5:** "A Heart for a Compass (or, A Proposal, the Modesty of Which Is Irrelevant)." Michael asks a question. Fluff. Well, okay, it's them, so there's a little angst mixed in, but it's mostly fluff.

**Chapter 6:** "We'll Crack the Darkest Sky Wide Open." Susan, Michael, and Sofie move to Minbar. It's a new beginning, but not in the old way.


	2. Biological Inefficiencies

**Title:** Biological Inefficiencies  
**Timeline:** November 2265

"Human infants are so undeveloped when they come out into the world," G'Kar commented. The baby he held, who was looking at him quizzically and a little cross-eyed, reached for one of the shiny patches on his vest. "Narn children do not leave their father's pouch until they can walk."

Susan and Michael glanced at each other. He looked horrified at the idea of carrying their daughter in a pouch on his stomach for a year; she merely looked amused.

"And you must take such care to keep them warm," G'Kar continued, indicating the fleecy jumpsuit, with its bright yellow hippopotamus print, that Sofie was wearing. "Having children live in a pouch until they can better regulate their own body temperature appears altogether easier."

Susan snickered, not even trying to hide her amusement at her husband's look of distress anymore.

"All right, if you're through criticizing our biology," Michael said, obviously wanting to derail this topic of conversation.

"Oh, I'm not criticizing it," G'Kar said, smiling down at the baby in his arms. She didn't smile back, but at least she didn't start screaming, which was something. "Well, I suppose I am, a little. But all of your biological inefficiencies are made up for by the fact that your friends can babysit this early in the child's life." He touched a finger to her nose and might, had the words been in his vocabulary, have said, "Cootchie-coo." Sofie, who was cutting her sixth tooth, tilted her head and bit down hard on his finger.

"Sofie, no!" her parents chided in unison. G'Kar winced and prised the digit from the infant's mouth. She hadn't been able to bite through his glove, but there were distinct impressions of tiny teeth visible in the leather.

"Sorry. She's teething," Michael explained. Susan reached into the bag sitting by the door and pulled a colorful teething ring out. She held it over Sofie's face, and the child grabbed it eagerly and stuck it in her mouth.

"That, at least, our species have in common," G'Kar said ruefully. He looked down at Sofie. "Obviously she is eager to take her place at the top of the food chain."

Susan raised an eyebrow. "As long as the food chain tops out at strained carrots, anyway."

"There is still time," G'Kar said indulgently, bouncing the girl lightly in his arms. She giggled around the teething ring.

"Speaking of which," Michael said, "we're going to be late if we don't leave soon."

"Right." Susan looked at G'Kar, a little worry clouding her expression. "We both have our links."

"And we'll be back to get her by nine tomorrow morning," Michael added.

G'Kar shook his head and huffed with good-natured exasperation. "Go, go! Enjoy your anniversary. We will be perfectly all right. Won't we?" he asked Sofie in a high-pitched voice. She cooed back at him.

"All right, all right," her father said. "We'll see you in a few hours." He turned to his wife. "Ready?"

She shot one last worried glance at her child, then nodded. "Take care, G'Kar," she said. The implications of what would happen if he didn't were quite evident in her voice.

G'Kar shifted Sofie to the crook of one arm and used the other hand to make a shooing motion. Reluctantly, they opened the door and stepped into the hallway.

As it hissed shut behind them, they heard G'Kar say, "Now, how about a good Narn fairy tale..."

Susan glanced at Michael as they started walking toward Green sector. "Are you sure leaving her with him is a good idea?"

He took her hand and squeezed it. "He said he wanted to. And John and Delenn said he was great with David." He grinned suddenly. "Besides, it could be worse. Londo could be watching her."

She blanched. "Thanks for giving me nightmares."

He loosened his fingers and put his arm around her shoulders, leaning in conspiratorially. "Then I guess we'll just have to stay up all night, won't we?"

That was a challenge Susan gladly accepted.


	3. Language Lessons

**Title:** "Language Lessons"  
**Timeline:** Fall 2267

"Michael, listen to this." Susan held a sippy cup half-full of water in front of the child sitting between them at the table. "Sofie, what is this?"

"_L'lom_," the girl chirped.

Michael stared. "Narn? Our child speaks _Narn_?"

"Our child speaks Narn better than I do. When she asked for it this morning, I had to have the computer translate it before I could figure out what she wanted."

"_Drek'i hi l'lom_!" Sofie reached for the cup. Susan placed it in her hands, and she quickly brought it to her mouth, slurping contentedly.

Her father's eyebrows rose with surprise. "That's the command form for large groups of people--armies, and the like. What has G'Kar been teaching her?"

Susan looked at their toddler, who was wearing fuzzy, footed pajamas and whose dark hair was in pigtails. "Our daughter the general," she said, sounding both contemplative and a little bit proud.

"Or the linguist," Michael pointed out. "She'll retain the language better, learning it this early. I guess we should thank him."

Sofie, finished with the water, held the empty cup out. "_Nusen'taal_," she said.

Her parents stared at each other. "Apparently we should thank Delenn as well," Susan finally said.

Michael furrowed his brow. "I think it might be time I finally got around to learning Minbari."

* Translations:  
_L'lom_ = cup  
_Drek'i hi l'lom_ = Give me the cup  
_Nusen'taal_ = Thank you


	4. How We Were Transfigured

**Title:** How We Were Transfigured  
**Timeline:** June 2262 (follows several weeks after "The Little Dreams We Dream...")

Near the end of their working lunch—the first time they'd managed to see each other outside of joint staff meetings in over a month—Susan took pity on her former CO.

"About six weeks ago."

Sheridan had the grace to look chagrined. "Was I that obvious?"

She stifled a laugh. "You could've had a blinking neon sign over your head and been less obvious."

He harrumphed. "All right, I was curious. It didn't exactly seem like something I could ask Michael at a weekly briefing."

She tried to imagine that conversation. It didn't end prettily.

Growing more serious, Sheridan said, "I am happy for you, you know. Both of you. I know things were...difficult during the war with Earth."

She looked down at the table, knowing all too well to what he was referring. A lot of things had been "difficult" during the war, and she wasn't sure when or if the memories would ever become less painful. Experience told her that some never lost their sharp edge.

They each had to get back to their respective offices, but agreed to meet for dinner, along with Delenn and Michael, one night in the next week to catch up. Friendship, they had found over the past two and a half years, was precious, and they weren't going to let even the management of the galaxy send them drifting apart.

Commander McCreary came by her office near the end of the shift to give her the report on fuel consumption she had asked for. Susan stiffened when the other woman came into the room, as she always did in McCreary's presence. She took the data pad she was handed without a word.

"Will that be all, Captain?" her first officer asked.

She would never be able to look at McCreary and not remember that she had fought on the other side. It was as integral to her perception of the woman as her red hair and her near-preternatural skill at cards. They might work easily together, or make laugh and small talk at diplomatic functions, but Susan would never forget.

But she could, she realized, someday forgive her for the choice she'd made.

"That's all, Commander." Just before the other woman turned to leave, she said, "Have—have a good evening."

McCreary paused and gave her a small and, Susan knew, rare smile. She nodded. "You too, Captain." Her back straight and shoulders squared, she left the room.

Susan held the data pad and breathed out slowly. The sharp edge dulled just a bit. Her heart began to ease.

* * *

**N.B.** The title is from an Eavan Boland poem of the same name, from her collection _Against Love Poetry_ (2001).


	5. A Heart for a Compass

**Title:** A Heart for a Compass (or, A Proposal, the Modesty of Which Is Irrelevant)  
**Timeline:** Spring 2263. Approximately nine or ten months after "The Backstreets of Heaven."  
**Note:** This pretty much exists in order to make an homage to one of my favorite scenes in Lois McMaster Bujold's Vorkosigan series. Hopefully it'll be enjoyable if you haven't read the book in question, though.

* * *

"So what do you think?"

What did she _think_? Surely he knew what — "Yes." Laughter bubbled out of her. "Of _course_."

"Really?" he asked, but apparently it was more out of nerves than a need for confirmation, for everything about his expression said he was thrilled with her answer.

"Yes, really," she said, punching him lightly on the arm before wrapping her arms around his neck and proceeding to kiss the hell out of him.

When they came up for air, he gently tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and smiled in a way that made her stomach flip over. "I've been wanting to ask you for a while now."

"I've thought about it a few times myself," she admitted. God, it was a wonder they'd ever managed to get as far as they had, they were both so cautious and gun-shy, she thought with some amusement. "So how long is a while?"

He settled back on her couch, and she happily rested against his shoulder, enjoying the feeling of his fingers sliding through her hair. "The first time...you remember that night we were supposed to go out for dinner, but something in the mess hall gave you food poisoning?"

"Unfortunately." She grimaced. Then the meaning of his answer sunk in, and she sat up to stare at him. "_Then_?" He nodded. "I spent half the night vomiting up everything I'd eaten in the past twenty-four hours!"

He grinned. "Exactly. I figured if I could sit there with you all that time you were puking your guts out and not want to be anywhere else, I was in this for the long haul."

She thought about punching him again, but decided that his answer was just disturbing enough to be sincere. Demented, but stealthily sweet — that was Michael, all right.

Something else about it struck her. "That was two...more than two years ago."

He shrugged a little too carefully. "Time never seemed to be right before."

She'd been ill just before he'd been taken by the Shadows, and she couldn't stop the memory of the year that followed from coming to mind. She bit her lip.

"Susan," he said softly, almost pleadingly. "Not everything changed that year."

"I know," she whispered.

They were as ready for this as they ever would be; she knew that as certainly as she knew her own name. Bester had given them something they might never fully get over, but together they had a better chance of putting it behind them than they did apart.

She placed her hand on his chest, gratified to feel a shiver run through him. She started to play with one of the buttons on his shirt, twisting it back and forth before finally slipping it out of its hole. "Well, I'll sit up all night with you if you ever need it. Although with what I've seen you eat, I doubt even Pak'Ma'Ra cuisine could make you sick."

He groaned. "Let's not talk about Pak'Ma'Ra food, huh? Especially not right now."

"'Kay. What else have you got in mind?" She moved her hand down his chest, swiftly freeing another button.

He kissed her lightly. "Well..." Another. "I actually wasn't thinking about _conversation_ at all." Once more.

"Funny," she said, feeling giddy as she loosened another button. "Neither was I..."

Oh, yes, they were definitely better together than apart.

**N.B.** Title adapted from Dar Williams's "I Love, I Love."


	6. We'll Crack the Darkest Sky Wide Open

**Title:** We'll Crack the Darkest Sky Wide Open  
**Timeline:** Approximately six months before "Language Lessons." See my profile for a complete timeline/master list.

* * *

"Michael, will you come here for a minute?"

Susan heard him set a box on the floor and walk down the hall to the bathroom. "Yeah?" he asked as he poked his head in the door.

She pointed at the collection of odd spiky bits attached approximately at eye level to one of the shelves in the closet. "Do you have any idea what these are?"

He stared at them, lips pursed and brow furrowed. "Something to do with bonecrest hygiene?" he finally ventured. He touched one that had a little loop of wire at the end, tentatively, as if it were an explosive device. Which, for all they knew, it might be.

"I'll add it to the list," she said, shaking her head.

Some of the oddities of their new Minbari home were easily explainable. They had quickly realized that the small shelves attached to the east wall in every room were altars stripped of the crystals that would have made them instantly recognizable. The portraits or short narratives portrayed in the stained glass windows meshed with what they already knew of Minbari residential architecture - although they had been both amused and a little unnerved to realize that the figure which made up one of their bedroom windows was Valen, alias Jeffrey Sinclair. They had made sure to place the bed so that the portrait's gaze did not reach it.

Other things, like the instruments in the bathroom and the small hole in the ceiling of the dining area, they had more trouble figuring out, and that was where their list for Delenn came in. Susan only hoped that the unexplainable oddities were common to all Minbari architecture, and not just artifacts from their home's ninety-year history.

"How many things have we got on it now?" Michael asked.

"This makes thirteen, assuming we haven't decided that it's better not to know what the picture in the kitchen window is about."

"It can't be worse than it looks." He paused. "Can it?"

She snickered at his horrified expression. Kneeling to open the box marked "bathroom," she asked, "Are you about done out there?"

"Pretty close," he said. "We're going to need to put stops on a couple of the drawers in the kitchen. Most of them are okay, but that little cabinet in the corner doesn't have any; she could pull them right out."

"She would, too." They shared a smile - albeit one tinged with exasperation - at their daughter's insistence on investigating everything she could get her small hands on.

Childproofing their new home had been an interesting experience so far, with a combination of expected hazards to take care of and unexpected ones to figure out what the hell to do about. Though their house, like several in the city, had been converted for use by the non-Minbari working at the ISA and Ranger - _Anla'Shok, Susan, you should get used to calling them that_ - headquarters, most of the structure was still profoundly foreign. It left them to wonder things such as whether the small tree which appeared to be growing in the middle of the living area was poisonous to small children who might decide to eat its leaves.

The fact that they now owned a house was itself almost as strange as the design. She hadn't lived in a house since she was seventeen. First it was university dorms, then assorted EarthForce housing, from a bunk bed on training missions to the relatively luxurious (by EarthForce standards) officer's quarters she had lived in on Babylon 5. Most recently there had been the two-bedroom apartment in Green Sector they had moved to after Sofie was born. Living area was at a premium in deep space, and having this much room seemed sinful; back on B5, they could've fit several conference rooms into their house's footprint. The openness of it sent the hair on the back of her neck creeping up.

While Michael returned to the kitchen, she began transferring items from the box at her feet into the closet: sheets, towels, Sofie's bath toys. It all seemed to take up laughably little space in the cavernous closet, though a similar complement of stuff had been plenty to fill their storage areas on the station. She carefully set a rubber duck on the shelf, reminding herself that they had good reasons for this move.

She'd been conflicted when John told her he'd put her name forward for EarthForce liaison to the Rangers. She'd commanded B5 for more than six years, and she loved every inch of the place - even the really dirty places. There was little that pleased her more than knowing everything was, for the moment at least, running smoothly in the little city in space that was her responsibility.

On the other hand, she'd missed John and Delenn since they'd moved to Minbar. The joint chiefs would stick her in administration sooner or later anyway, and any other position would be on Earth, where she still, after all these years, wasn't sure she could live again. Besides, Michael could still serve in the ISA cabinet on Minbar; it would be far more difficult from Earth.

And some part of her wanted Sofie to grow up on a planet, with sun and rain and more trees than the little piece of woodland B5 offered in the park. She'd known they made the right choice when, the moment they stepped out of the Tuzanor spaceport yesterday afternoon, Sofie had stared up at the sky, entranced by the arching bowl over her head that was the exact color of her eyes.

The thought reminded her to go across the hall and look in on her daughter, who was currently corralled in her bedroom with the Minbari version of a baby gate. It had multicolored crystals embedded in its clear plastic (of course it did). They were arranged in geometric patterns which, though some kind of holographic overlay, appeared to constantly change, rather like a kaleidoscope. When they had given it to their friends the previous day, David being too old for it anymore, Delenn had called the crystals intellectually and spiritually stimulating. John had merely said that they could distract a child nicely when one had things to do around the house.

Rather than being enthralled by the gate, Sofie, predictably, had spent much of the afternoon attempting to climb it. She had finally seemed to grasp the futility of trying to scale the smooth surface - much to her parents' relief - and turned her attention to her stuffed animal collection as evening came on. Interstellar freight charges being what they were, they hadn't been able to bring much with them, and Susan knew the girl was clinging to the familiarity of her fuzzy bears and rabbits.

Sofie looked up at her step and toddled over to the door. "Mama!" she said brightly. "Up?" She raised her arms expectantly.

Susan obliged her, grunting softly as she settled the girl against her hip. "You are getting way too heavy for this," she said. In response, Sofie nestled her head against her shoulder, a sigh of contentment escaping her lips. Susan chuckled. Barely two and her daughter knew exactly how to charm her into practically anything. Adolescence was going to be hell.

There was little left to do in the bathroom, and she put the last few towels away with one hand before shutting off the light and heading for the living room. The hallway echoed as she walked through it. But she smiled as she watched Michael stow their military-issue duffel bags in the closet near the front door, and listened to the soft breathing of their growing daughter. Their house would fill up with time.

"Hey," Michael said, finally noticing their presence when she stood right behind him. He tweaked one of Sofie's pigtails, and got a giggle in return. "Are we done?"

"I think so." She set Sofie on her feet. "We should get going if we're going to be on time for dinner." They were due at Delenn and John's house in twenty minutes. While it didn't take long to walk there, they had discovered the day before that bundling their particularly squirmy child up for the chilly Minbari spring took much longer than clothing her for the constant temperature on B5. They'd begun adjusting their routines accordingly.

Several layers later, they made it out of the house and onto the sidewalk. They walked slowly, letting Sofie set the pace as she walked between them, each of her hands in one of theirs. When they had gone a few yards from the house, Michael chanced to glance behind them, and drew her attention to the sight he'd found.

Minbar's star was setting, and it had set the western sky aflame in pink and bronze. Perhaps it was just her imagination, but though the sun gilded all of the buildings on the street, it seemed to make the stained glass windows and crystalline walls of their house glow especially bright, like a beacon for travelers who hadn't even known they were lost.

She felt a tug on her hand, and tore her gaze from the sunset to see what Sofie wanted.

What Sofie wanted was to get closer to a bug she had found on the sidewalk. She had dropped to her knees to give the multi-legged, fuzzy blue creature a more thorough inspection, and from the way she was trying to slide her hand out of her mother's grasp, Susan had a feeling that the next thing she had planned was to see how caterpillar a la Minbar tasted.

"Come on, _solnyshko_" - oh, the endearment was truer than she had realized, she thought, noticing now that the sunlight had turned strands of her daughter's hair to gold. "We're going to have real food in a minute."

Sofie was far more interested in the caterpillar than in the prospect of dinner, and they saw her face begin to curl into her classic "impending tantrum" expression. With one smooth movement, Michael scooped her up and sat her on his shoulders.

The effect was instantaneous. She adored being carried like this, and surveyed the world happily from her new perch, all thoughts of the caterpillar forgotten.

Despite the spring chill, warmth stole over Susan. Her whole life, moving to a new place or taking a new posting had always meant starting over. Watching Sofie wave at her from atop Michael's shoulders, seeing him grin along with her, she knew that she would never have to start from scratch again.

* * *

**Notes:**

1. _solnyshko_ = "little sun." According to the internet/a, it's a Russian endearment for small children.

2. The title is from Hem's "Half Acre."

3. Ohgod, I know nothing about children. I did a lot of internet research, but really, I understand if you're laughing at some blatant mistake I made. Point it out and I'll totally laugh along with you.

4. Now I will bore you with meta babble! Though it's short, this fic has a long and torturous history. (Let us not even discuss how many words I cut from it and how many drafts it's been through over the past year.) I started it not long after I watched "Sleeping in Light" for the first time. I had this to say about it in my original reaction post on LiveJournal:

_I liked Susan especially throughout the whole thing - greatly enjoyed that she was still as cynical as ever even twenty years later - although I felt terribly for her, so sad and bitter after all those years. I feel like, in some ways, we constantly see her starting over - at Babylon 5, leaving to command a starship, and now as head of the Rangers. These aren't situations that _have_ to be presented in terms of starting over, but for her, they are, and I get the feeling she would like to be someone who has a foundation to build on instead._

Largely, this is where I'm coming from when I write Ivanova in this series. What if she didn't have to always start over? What if she could hang on to some constants in her life? (Even though she never meant for Garibaldi to be a constant in her life.) What would this Susan Ivanova be like?

Presumably this is a question that would have been partially answered in S5 had Claudia Christian elected to stay on the show. At any rate, those are the questions _I'm_ trying to answer, and the answers are what hold this AU together. Or at least I intend them to.


End file.
